


you gave all you had (and now i am whole)

by LadyAlice101



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hot Springs, Lord Commander Snow, Queen in the North, Smut, bc i want to gift you all with this really steamy and smutty fic, i'm defs ignoring a handful of things about jon's behaviour, post s8 happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 02:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18907735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAlice101/pseuds/LadyAlice101
Summary: His eyes stray lower than her face, down to what is shrouded by water.Jon unsheathes his sword and lays it across the ground as he drops to a knee.“Your Grace,” he says, head bowed, voice rough. “My sword is yours.”Sansa stands, her body bare and wet before him.His head snaps up at the noise of the water twinkling around her as she stands, as she knew it would.“Lord Commander,” she greets. “I trust that your ride was smooth?”He licks his lips, not even pretending to look her in the eyes. “As always.”--yass, the post canon dirty smut fic we need





	you gave all you had (and now i am whole)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KatMorgan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatMorgan/gifts).



> So firstly let me just say that jon did some pretty gross things in general and to sansa this season so like. I didn’t have the time/heart to address it here in this fic, cuz I wanted it to be light, but lets just assume that they either didn’t happen or he’s spent an EXTENSIVE amount of time groveling and giving her orgasms before she forgave him 
> 
> Secondly this fic is for @KatMorgan who requested a hot springs scene in victory is in my veins, but I can’t see how I could deliver it 
> 
> And lastly, of the uh hum, confusing plot lines that s8 gave us, at least it gave me plenty of inspo for sexy lord commander/queen in the north and so I’ve put them in the hot springs and turns out that’s my KINK

“Sansa.”

The water ripples as Sansa startles. She turns to peer over her shoulder at her intruder, even though she knows who it is.

“You scared me,” she scolds.

He’s a dark silhouette against a white backdrop. Snow falls lightly through the godswood, so light that Sansa hadn’t noticed while she’d been seated in the steaming water, but it’s stark against his dark curls and black cloak.

He moves silently across the snow, his boots not even crunching. He’s learnt such serenity beyond the Wall.

Sansa doesn’t move as he comes to stand before her, staring down at her, taking in her vibrant red hair piled atop her head, no doubt with curls loose at the nape of her neck and sticking damp against her skin, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the water, her shoulders pale and wet against the dark of the water.

His eyes stray lower than her face, down to what is shrouded by water.

Jon unsheathes his sword and lays it across the ground as he drops to a knee.

“Your Grace,” he says, head bowed, voice rough. “My sword is yours.”

Sansa stands, her body bare and wet before him.

His head snaps up at the noise of the water twinkling around her as she stands, as she knew it would.

“Lord Commander,” she greets. “I trust that your ride was smooth?”

He licks his lips, not even pretending to look her in the eyes. “As always.”

“I’m sure your muscles ache,” she continues. “Perhaps you’d like a warm bath to sooth them?”

Longclaw stays discarded on the ground as Jon rises to his feet, cloak falling to the snow as he stands.

He locks eyes with her and doesn’t falter as he unfastens his belt.

“As my Queen commands,” he rasps, lips twitching upwards. His fingers are deft as his leathers snap and fall to the ground. He unlaces his boots last, and once he’s put them aside he steps immediately into the hot spring with her.

He reaches out to circle her in his grip and then his lips press to hers, mouth open and tongue hot as he runs it up the centre of hers.

Sansa’s hands slide up his hard chest, fingernails scraping and already leaving red lines.

They are always like this the first time. He’ll be here for several days, as he always is, but even now, years after they first had a taste of each other, they are never anything but rough and greedy when they reunite.

He hisses as she takes his lip between her teeth and bites and pulls. His hands cup her arse and tilt her hips up into his; she gasps, his hardening cock pressing against her.

Neck bared, Jon takes advantage. His mouth descends against her pulse, teeth scraping.

“Have you been waiting for me?” he asks, teeth digging into the sharp line of her collarbone. “Did you miss me?”

“You know I did, Jon,” she sighs, arms draped over his shoulders.

His grip is bruising, his mouth demanding, but she _loves_ them like this. When they’re like wolves, biting and nipping and harsh in their desire.

Jon’s fingers dip between her folds, craving to see what he does to her. He hums against her, lips feathering against her throat and gathering the moisture there from the spring water, the deep rumbling in his chest making her own shudder.

“Aye, I know you did,” he husks, the pads of his middle and forefinger sliding from her cunt to her clit. “Do you know how I know?”

He circles her nub, short and fast, but stops when she gives him no answer but a sharp gasp.

“How?” she questions, breathless, because he won’t move again unless she gives him what he wants. “How do you know?”

“I know because you’re already so wet, so wet for me.” The tip of his tongue draws a line from the base of her throat to the jut of her chin, and all at once he slides two fingers inside her. “I know because I can finger fuck you already. You’re wet enough that I could take you right now if I wanted.”

She whimpers, her belly tight and burning already, just from his words, just from his presence, just from the immensity of her desire for him.

He curls his fingers, pressing them against that _place_ inside her that makes her writhe and whimper and groan and demand that he do something more.

Sansa can feel the curl of his smile against her jaw, but he does as she asks thrusts his fingers in and out, the calloused heel of his palm pressed into her clit.

It’s carnal lust between them, and Sansa’s release comes so quickly that Jon doesn’t even bother to stop working his fingers between them, no matter how her legs shudder and he has to curl his arm about her waist in order to keep her standing.

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” he says against her ear, his voice so deep and rough that she can hardly make out what he’s saying. “Fuck Sansa, I’ve dreamt about the taste of your cunt.”

He sucks and nips behind her ear, so hard she knows she won’t be able to braid her hair back for days. If they weren’t out in the springs, where the water laps high against their thighs, she’s sure he would already have prostrated himself before her so he might sup on her cunt like he describes, like he wants.

Sansa doesn’t think of herself as religious, not any more, but she cherishes sacred things and the godswood and hot springs are certainly sacred. The Queen in the North is definitely still going to let the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch fuck her in pool, however, the weirwood staring down at them.

Despite already peaking under his ministrations, it doesn’t take him long to bring her to ecstasy again, muttering his sweet appreciation and filthy praise, _so good_ and _mine_ and _Sansa, sweetheart_ in delicious contrast to how harshly he moves.

She responds with equal fervor, encouraging him with his name, with her sighs and whimpers and her demands for _more, Jon, please more._

Sansa’s body twitches against him as she peaks, and this time she has to grip his wrist and stop him from moving any more.

Sansa whines lowly as he cradles her against his chest, as he presses frantic kisses against her cheek and hair amidst his confessions; “I missed you, I’ve missed you so much, gods I can’t bear to be parted from you for so long again.”

He is hot against her, the steam from the springs rising around them, but the chill of wind makes her skin prick.

Jon lowers them both into the water, moaning with relief as he does.

“Fuck, I didn’t realize how cold I was,” he mutters. Jon rests his back against the wall of the pool, settling back against the rock and draping her over him. Sansa rests her head against his shoulder, thigh hooked over his waist and nudging his hard cock.

Several choice replies come to her mind at that, pointed remarks about he could keep warm if he’d just stay in Winterfell with her, about how cold it must be in the true north and about how he need not exile himself anymore. But that’s a discussion they will save for after, after she’s had him, after they’re boneless and sated and sitting by the fire.

Instead, head still pillowed against his shoulder, she reaches through the water for his cock. His head drops back against the snow, a groan ripping from his throat as her fingers circle around him.

She only pumps her hand around her three times before he opens his eyes, dark and blown wide, and hauls her up to his lap. He aligns his cock with her entrance, and with a nod from her he thrusts up into her sharply, like he can’t wait a moment longer to be buried inside her slick heat.

“So tight,” he groans, “gods sweetheart, you’re so beautiful –“

She bucks her hips, and the water splashes loudly as his arm slams around her waist, encouraging her pace.

“Fuck, can I – take your hair out, sweet girl, come on sweetheart, I want to see your beautiful red hair, I was to pull it and make you scream my name –“

Sansa reaches up, back arching, and lets her hair tumble down, the ends falling into the water.

Jon’s hand immediately winds into her roots, and he tugs, _hard,_ and takes one of her breasts into his mouth as he does. Her hips stutter then stop as she’s overcome with the pleasure that his roughness provides, but he thrusts up into her and encourages her to keep going.

“C’mon, sweet girl, keep moving, keep moving for me.”

She rocks her hips, and he tugs her hair again in approval, sucking and licking her breast and nipple.

“Yes, Sansa, I love it when you ride me, I love when you’re on top –“

His praise only urges her further, makes her move master until the godswood is filled with the sound of water splashing and their harsh panting. Sansa leans forward to brace her elbows against the hard ground, forehead pressed to his and their lips hovering together. Their harsh breath mixes together as Sansa’s guides them towards release.

“Oh sweetheart, I love you so much, I missed you. I don’t want to leave again.”

Her hips jerk in their rhythm, but his hand guides her back into a smooth pace. Against his mouth she gasps, “No, please, please, stay here with me.”

“I will, I will, I’m not leaving again, I want to give you another – oh, _fuck_.”

His cock pulses inside her and he arches up so he can kiss her as he spills inside her.

Though his breath is stilted and his body shudders, he still reaches between them to rub her nub as he finishes his own peak and thrusts her into hers. Jon kisses her through it, coaxing her as her world shatters into white and is put back together with his words; “My Sansa, my sweet, beautiful Sansa, you’re so pretty, so pretty when you come for me, come around me.”

Sansa slumps against him, eyes fluttered closes, chest to chest and nose to nose.

Jon pulls out of her, but just readjusts them slightly so she can stay perched atop his lap, the water hot against them, her hair fanned out across her back.

“Will you really stay?”

“Will it cause you trouble?”

“This is _my_ Kingdom,” she scolds gently, nuzzling her nose against his temple. “I’ll do what I want, and I’ll have who I want by my side.”

He sighs. “I’ll still not be able to marry, not yet. Ten years, Tyrion said. We’ve still four to go.”

“I don’t need to marry you,” she reminds him. “I didn’t need it at the beginning, I didn’t need when Lyanna or Robb were born, and I don’t need it now.”

Finger caressing her back, he whispers, “How are they?”

“They don’t understand why their Father can’t be with them all the time.” She doesn’t understand, either, but she’s long past trying to. She just needs Jon to do what he needs. “They’ll be glad to see you.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to leave again.”

There are so many things that Sansa wants to say to that, so many things he needs to _hear_ , but now is not the time; not while they’re naked and entwined and happy. She doesn’t want to speak with him on the topic while she’s still in so much bliss.

“If you don’t leave again,” Sansa says slowly, teasingly, “will you still fuck me like a wolf?”

A groan rips from his throat, and it sounds suspiciously like her name. “Aye, I’ll fuck you hard and rough, against every wall in the castle, and then I’ll make sweet love to you on our bed afterwards.”

He’s always eager to please her.

Wolves mate for life, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> yoo come visit me on tumblr @ladyalice101 if you wanna chat about the finale or the future for jonsa or you have a request for me to write! pls, let me get out all my emotions with happy fic 
> 
> also shoutout to @tlmfe23 who's fic title inspired the last line of this


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